overachieving assholes

so.

i totally forgot to write on the blog. like literally completely didnt even think about it. i did remember to run... just not to brag about it. this is very unlike me.

so its kind of summertime... which means that my job gets crazy. its really really easy for me to fit running into my life when i dont have to be anywhere definite until 3pm.... but i dont get to do that anymore. FML.

so, to summarize my past few weeks...

delia came home from LA which was inevitably going to throw me off. theres no way to drink a lot, work a lot, and run a lot... or theres no FUN way to do all 3. and i am all about the fun part of this. when it sucks, i just wont do it.

so i think its been 2 weeks since i wrote what i did... i have run 4 times a week and swam 1 for the past 2 weeks... last week i also did 2 pilates classes.

id love to say that the runs have been good and ive enjoyed them, but, truthfully, the novelty of this whole "running more than 3 miles thing" is quickly dissipating. im a couch potato at heart and just dont like running everyday.

two weeks ago from today (so tuesday, may 19 for reference), i went for a hot, short run in weston. SUPER HILLS. and by the time i was done, my shins were on fire. like dunzo. they fucking hurt like a mother fucker. so i didnt run weds, did run thurs, did not run friday... and then had the weston 5k saturday morning.

i am about to confide in you all. THIS WAS ONE OF THE WORST EXPERIENCES IN MY LIFE. i know youre all thinking... a 5k in weston, ct is one of the worst moments of her life??? what a spoiled connecticut bitch with no real problems!!!

true.

BUT. i will explain why this was so bad. i had been up and at the pool by about 7am that entire week preparing for our health inspection. we passed it friday. i decided it was an excellent idea to sit on my porch and drink a gross amount of alcohol. if i remember correctly, it was 4 coronas, 2 rum and diets, and a few shots of tequila. not ideal for a 6:30am wake up for a race.

now, this race took place in the town that i work. about 100 people (slight exaggeration) live in this town... and i know about 98 of them. so i get to the race. i went with delia baby sister, mohaynes, also hungover. this is the order of events:

1. the person who took my registration was one of my high school swimmers.
2. i am approached by about 30 different little kids.. all of whom swim for me.... and all of which are 13 and under. i am beginning to realize how mortifying this might be.
3. i am waiting to begin the race. one of my swim team parents snaps my picture for a website. great. side note: showed up to the race in flamboyant, hot pink nike pants that are 2 sizes too big and a sleeveless lifeguard muscle t. great. i am also carrying my car keys because i had nothing else to do with them.
4. i am thirsty. i find a water bottle on the ground that appears to be without disease. mo and i drink from this. a sad moment in my life.
4. the race begins. i was like literally the last person to begin the race... im already playing catch up. bad call.
5. mile 1. my shins already hurt. and my car keys are jingling. i hear a dad talking to his daughter about there being no pressure in this race... they just want to finish. i know them. i am forced to acknowledge that i am keeping pace with a 7 year old. and not a tall, strong 7 year old.
6. i am running by randi's house. of course they are sitting out front to ridicule/"cheer" for everyone as they run by. again, i am forced to acknowledge how painfully slow i am moving. i stop for 10 seconds to say "hi." in these 10 seconds, i realize that i may actually vomit during the next 2.1 miles.
7. mile 2. not as notable as mile 1, thank god. however, at the end of mile 2, i am told my time by another swim team mommy. i see one of my 9 year old swimmers in the distance. mentally, i alter my goal for the race. my new goal? BEAT THAT 10 YEAR OLD
8. mile 3. i walk up a hill. not a big hill... more like a speed bump. a swim team mom RUNS BY ME and offers my words of encouragement. i puke up rum, tequila, beer, and acid in response.
9. i am nearing the home stretch... not in impressive fashion, but still... little engine that could style. as i run the last .2 miles, the swim team mom with the camera snaps my picture. my immediate reaction when people take my picture when im not ready is to flick them off... but this time, knowing THAT would be the wrong move, i decide to wipe sweat off my face with my shirt. there is a picture of me, on a website purple, vomity, sweaty, panting, with my shirt on my face, stomach everywhere, in a muscle t.
10. i finish. hooray. miracles do happen. i learned a lot that day: never run hungover in front of people you know (especially when the times are published in the paper and pictures are put on a website), muscle t's dont look as cool as i originally thought, when i set goals-- i achieve them (i did beat that 9 year old!!!), and, most importantly, my life can never be as bad as it was that day. things can only get better.

so... im off for another run.